I can see the three-legged, multi-pedigreed mongrel curled up in the corner, and flies buzzing around in the mid morning swelter, with the smell of bad intentions in the air. Or maybe that was the aftermath of the last gaijin who believed he could keep up drink for drink with the locals.
I hope you threw a parting, "You're all lucky, this time" over your shoulder as you exited. (Just loud enough for the patrons to hear, but not the missus.)
Of course, nothing better than a veiled threat just quiet enough for the missus not to hear!!
Knowing the exact volume is an finely honed art developed by years of living life on the razor's edge.
There is no other edge I would rather live on! ;0)